


Fight For It

by TheFightingBull



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Day 4, Graphic Description, Graphic Violence, Jason Todd is Robin, M/M, Nice Slade, SladeRobin Week
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-01-05 18:36:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21213221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFightingBull/pseuds/TheFightingBull
Summary: Realizing that Jason's missing and possibly in the hands of his biological mother, Dick Grayson has a terrible feeling that he and Batman won't find him in time. Especially once he learns that the woman is working Joker. Desperately he turns to Deathstroke because in his gut, Dick's sure that Jason won't last the night.





	1. Broken and Bloodied

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't canon and it won't follow canon. Hope you all like it. I really enjoyed this one and will make it a WIP. Lots of chapters to come!

Slade kicked the clown in the chest, hearing bone and cartilage crack and break. He reached down and picked up the crowbar, his one eye narrowed, his mouth in a violent snarl. He rained blow upon blow down on the laughing man until the hook was caught in the temple. Slade yanked it back violently before crashing it down on the exposed skull and brain matter, until all he could hear was the shallow agonized breathing of the teen a few feet away.

He moved quickly to the bomb and shut it down. He spared a glance for the woman he’d heard saying vile, self-serving things when he’d first arrived. The clown shot her, but as he walked by, she grabbed at his ankle and looked up at him with frightened green eyes. “Help…please.”

He pulled his weapon and shot her twice in the head, just to be sure she didn’t miraculously survive.

His mind returned to the frantic call of Nightwing, the main reason he was on the southern edge of Gotham’s borders. _“Batman won’t make it in time! I won’t make it in time! We’ve been looking all over Gotham and we can’t find him! Please, Slade, please save him. You’re better at this than we are!” _At first, he’d thought it was a prank until he realized that Dick was genuinely frightened and not thinking straight. _“He’s not even seventeen yet and he’s desperate to get closer to his mother. He doesn’t know she’s working with Joker! Please, I’ll pay you any amount of money you want!”_

Technically he wasn’t supposed to kill the clown or the mother. He was there to rescue to the wayward Robin and get him safely to his nest. Mommy Dearest and It! would be left alive for the Bat to deal with. Unfortunately, things changed when he entered the warehouse. They changed when he heard the tortured, broken scream of the teenager.

He knelt down and looked over the body of the red, green and yellow clad boy. Shattered, scarred, not quite alive enough to be terrified or in pain at the moment. The boy was muttering something about the Batman, about the woman now gone from this world.

“You were brave, Robin,” he whispered gently as he carefully pulled the boy into his arms. Unfocused, uneven eyes looked toward him, like the boy didn’t quite see. “You hear me? You were very brave, and you did good, pretty-bird. You just have to fight a little longer and little harder, you understand?”

The kid’s right eye was entirely red around the iris with terrible black bruising surrounding it, his mask having fallen off at some point. His lip had been split wide open on the left side. Small gashes with an array of colorful bruises covered most of his body. His clothes were torn and covered in his own blood and Slade was sure at least one of his arms was badly fractured, probably from trying to defend himself.

“Batman?” He called as he looked around.

“I was closer, Kid. They sent me to come for you,” Slade answered.

“They?” Robin asked softly.

“Nightwing and Batman,”

There was a long silence as he carried the small teenager out of the warehouse and walked over to the helicopter waiting for him. He was sure that Robin had passed out until he shook his head. “Bullshit, B would never outsource,” he croaked out.

He snickered as he set the kid down on the gurney and looked to the two medics, he’d brought with him. “Watch your mouth, Brat, I just saved your life.”

“No one does anything for free,” the boy lamented.

He was about to comment when Robin’s eyes rolled back, and he started seizing. The two medics he’d brought with him started to do what they could, but a sinking feeling in his stomach told Slade that they wouldn’t be able to do much. Even he had been too late for the hatred that clown laid into the tiny Robin.

With a few quick button presses his cellphone connected to his contact. “He ain’t gonna make it, Nightwing,” he warned.

“No, that’s, that’s not possible,” he could hear the disbelief and the shock. “There has to be something! How bad could it be, you got there so fast!”

“The clown wasn’t going easy on him. You’re talking blunt force trauma to the head. Several times, Nightwing. Not even Batman could save him.” He explained as evenly as he could.

Sure, he killed teens, he’d even killed kids in the past. But it was always quick. No torture. No suffering. No brutality. Painless. Honestly, unless there was a fight to the death, all of his targets were taken out with as little fuss as possible.

“Not by conventional means,” the cape tried, hope rising quickly in his voice. “You have some don’t you? You keep it somewhere-, just in case! I know you do!” 

“You don’t know what you’re asking, Nightwing,” he warned. “It can have side-effects.”

“I don’t care, just don’t let him die!” Nightwing begged and Slade could tell he was on the point of hysterics, tears probably running down his handsome face. “Please, Slade.”

He looked to the medics who gave up on life-saving care. They shook their heads, removing and disposing of their bloodied gloves. Robin was still breathing, still fighting, but there was nothing they could do to keep him that way. Slade bit the inside of his cheek as he listened to Nightwing beg and plead for the life of his “brother”.

“He’s worth it, Slade I swear. He’s worth using it on!”

It wasn’t a fair price. Not by a long shot. “What about Batman? You don’t think he’s gonna be hunting me down trying to get his sidekick back?”

“Who said you could keep him!” Dick snarled, the nastiness of his temper flaring in the face of impending grief.

“Relax, Nightwing. You’re asking me for a very, very expensive favor,” he growled back. “If you think I am going to let this shit fall into the wrong hands or that I won’t stick around to make sure the brat doesn’t suffer from any side-effects than you’re a fool.”

There was silence. Well, beyond the noise of the helicopter flying through the air toward one of Slade’s safe-houses. “He’d dying!”

“Then make your decision fast!” He snapped. Of course, Nightwing never did as he was told. He could hear the hiccuping sob and frowned. “Look, Nightwing, I think death might be a kinder fate for him. It’s not that I’m trying to bargain and negotiate, I just don’t think it’s right to let him suffer.”

“But he’s still alive and therefore he’s still suffering anyhow!” Dick argued. “Batman doesn’t have to know, Slade, we can keep this quiet, we can figure everything out, just please don’t let him die.”

Slade sighed heavily as he pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes tightly. He understood loss and grief and he knew Nightwing wasn’t thinking any of it through. But then he looked down at the teal blue eyes staring up at him, their focus strengthened and determined. Robin was trying to fight. He was trying to live and even with the horrible fear of death looming over him, he was bravely staring up at him.

He reached out and grabbed hold of the kid’s limp hand. “Do you want to talk to Nigthwing?” He offered, feeling it might be for the best that they say their goodbyes.

Robin shook his head. “After…” the boy inhaled. “I’m home.” The small hand gave a tight squeeze. _I won’t die, not yet. Not like this. _It was written clearly in the determined, albeit exhausted expression of the second Boy Wonder.

He shook his head. “Meet me in my Bludhaven safehouse,” he decided. “No Bat, Nightwing. No friends either. We’ll discuss payments and arrangements if he survives.” 


	2. Some Commitments Require Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am happy that so many of you have decided to continue reading this story. I really hope I don't disappoint!

Slade held the syringe and stared at Dick, studying the guilt-ridden man. He’d been forbidden from contacting Bruce Wayne until after they were sure the serum would work. The fact of the matter was, the super soldier serum was tested on fully grown adults. Just looking at Jason Todd, he was certain the boy hadn’t yet reached his full growth potential.

“You’re sure you want this, Grayson?” He asked.

Dick trembled, his blue eyes shining with tears as he knelt beside the bed Jason was laying in, holding the bandaged hand gently. His medics had done what they could to clean him up, but it wasn’t going to be enough. If they let nature take it’s course, Jason Todd would be dead within in the hour.

“Don’t, Slade,” Dick whispered, several tears glittering down his face. “Don’t ask. Just do it.”

“This choice has to be consciously made, Dick. It can’t be a whim or an act of desperation,” he growled. “When Jason wakes up in a far worse pain than he’s in now or when he can’t control his aggression, you have to be able to justify it. _‘Please, Slade, just don’t let him die!’_ isn’t good enough.”

“But it _is_ an act of desperation!” The young man cried. “This whole night is!”

“Dick, you need to either man-up and say your goodbyes or you stand up, look me in the eye, and tell me that we’re moving forward,” He snapped. “Make your choice, Grayson. Make it and then live with it.”

He wasn’t trying to be cold or cruel, but he needed Dick to understand the weight of this decision. He needed someone to be responsible for making it. He was just a hired hand at this point. He had no skin in the game and no right to decide on behalf of the dying teen. That was a family matter and none of his concern. Jason wouldn’t be his concern unless that serum made its way into his body.

Jason groaned in his state of unrest, but his eyes remained closed. Dick cried a little harder as he rubbed what were meant to be soothing circles into the boy’s hand. Honestly, Slade wasn’t sure what the right course was. There might even be a chance that the serum didn’t help at all. For all they knew, Jason could still die.

Unfortunately, there were only two things he knew of that had the potential to keep Jason alive. The serum and the Lazarus Pit. Jason certainly wouldn’t make it to the Pit and if he died? No. Dropping a dead body into the pit was asking for trouble the likes of which Slade would prefer not to deal with.

Finally, after five long minutes, Dick stood up, looked him in the eye and nodded. “We’re moving forward.”

The decision made; Slade sat beside Jason on the left side of the bed. Dick, he noted, moved to Jason’s right. The medics had left an iv in the crook of Jason’s broken arm, careful to wrap the soft cast below the elbow. He took the syringe and after screwing it into the line, began to slowly push the liquid into Jason’s vein.

Teal irises wrapped in red opened seconds later, wide and afraid. The heart monitor started beeping urgently. It reached one-hundred-forty-four beats per second. Slade reached down and gently stroked the boy’s hair, careful to avoid any injuries. It had been so long since he’d gone through this, but he remembered the anxiety and the adrenaline.

“Look at me, Jason,” The terrified eyes stared intently up at him, looking for him to be someone else.

“B…Where’s B?” The teen questioned timidly, his chest rising and falling rapidly in distress. 

“He’s not here, Jason,” Dick said softly, pulling away Jason’s frightened gaze. “He’s on his way though.”

“Bruce…tell him… tell him sorry,” Even as the boy whimpered frantically, he looked back to and held Slade’s eye, his jaw tightened. “Please, will you?”

“Don’t focus on that now. You’re not going anywhere,” he soothed as he finished pushing the serum. “Just trust in me, and I promise I’ll get you through it.”

To his and Dick’s relief, Jason’s heart rate fell to a normal pace as his eyelids became heavy. Slade didn’t know how the serum would affect someone so badly injured, but he recalled that even without wounds, it had knocked him on his ass. It changed him so thoroughly that he’d slept for several hours as his body worked and adjusted to its new parameters.

“We need to get him to my place,” Dick frowned. “I have to get in touch with Bruce. He’s been searching all over Gotham for Joker.”

“Why?” Slade snorted. “He’s dead.”

“Yes, so you told me,” Dick sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “I had to lie to Bruce, or he’d want to know why I didn’t just take Jason to the mansion. I needed him distracted.”

“He’s going to have to find out sometime, Dick,” Slade frowned. “It’s not my job to protect his feelings or his reputation and I’m warning you now, if he comes after me, I’ll take Robin and run.”

Dick’s eyes narrowed and his fists clenched. He always had been an emotional young man and when he wasn’t in costume, it was impossible for him to hide his tells. Their agreement was already beginning to chafe and that was a concern to Slade. The way he saw it, he’d been more than fair with the young hero. Some might even say liberal with the terms of their agreement.

“I’ll handle him, Slade, I told you that.” Dick snapped.

“You really think you can convince Bruce to let Jason stay here in Bludhaven with you?” Slade asked as he stood from the bed.

“I’m sure of it.” Dick nodded.

* * *

Batman never did find the clown, nor did he find the bomb Nightwing insisted was out there. He couldn’t help the paranoid thought that either the Joker was up to something far more sinister, or that Nightwing had lied. Either way, it didn’t matter at the moment. 

It was time to be Bruce. It was time to be calm and it was time to be the support that his hurting ward needed. He needed to be the father he still felt he was too young to be.

When Bruce arrived at Dick’s safehouse, he was prepared for a fight with his oldest. He expected to be blamed. After all, it was Batman and Batgirl’s conversation that had spurred Jason to go find his biological mother. It was their mistrust and fears that pushed the boy to seek out a woman who never loved him to begin with.

“B!” Dick wrapped his arms around him, forcing the hug on Bruce whether he wanted it or not. “He’s going to be okay; I promise. He’ll be okay.”

He nodded and allowed his first ward to bring him to the room where Jason was sleeping fitfully. Dr. Thompkins must have already been by. There was an IV drip, and other medical equipment to monitor the boy’s health. There was so much bandaging on the left side of Jason’s face that Bruce wondered how bad the scarring would be. Would he lose his sight or hearing? Both of the young man’s arms were placed in plaster casts but he didn’t see anything beneath the blankets that were pulled up to his chest to know if there was more damage. He assumed there was.

The casts gave him hope, though. Robin had tried to fight. Jason had managed to defend himself in at least some small way. Bruce was taken aback by the heavy weight of guilt that rippled through him at the thought. He was tempted to wake Jason, just to tell him how sorry he was that he’d failed to protect him. That he’d failed to find him. Would Jason resent him as much as he did himself?

“Will he really make it through the night?” He asked Dick quietly. “He looks so… So, hurt.”

Dick sniffled and as he turned to face him, Bruce caught him wiping away a few tears. He stared long and hard at his son. He was upset, but he wasn’t grieving nor was he afraid. Well, not of Jason dying. There was relief in his eyes. Perhaps it looked worse than it was, but once more Bruce had the feeling he was being manipulated.

“He’ll make it, I know he will,” Dick affirmed.

While there could be no doubt that Dick was one of the most optimistic people Bruce had ever known, that wasn’t what Dick was feeling. There was a difference between hoping for something and knowing something. Dr. Thompkins must have made it clear that Jason was out of any and all danger for Dick to feel so confident.

But could that be right?

Leslie didn’t make promises and he hadn’t received a single call ripping him a new one for the danger Jason was in or the damage done to him by their “idiotic and reckless lifestyle”. He wanted to question Dick, but lately they struggled to converse without arguing and the last thing either of his boys needed was a fight with him.

“Can he stay?” Dick asked softly.

“What?” Bruce frowned, thrown off by the question.

“I mean, can he stay with me for a while?” Dick’s blue eyes watered and he looked genuinely stressed and afraid of making the request. It grabbed Bruce’s attention as he stared at his former sidekick. “I’ve been so terrible to him in the past and I want to make it right. We’ve just started to get along, B. That, and after what he heard you and Barbara talking about, I guess I figured he might want some space?”

Was that all it was? The feeling of paranoia Bruce had? Was this what the former Robin had been gearing up to ask him? It did make sense. Dick would absolutely believe that the best thing for Jason was to be separated from him. Even knowing that, it still felt as if he’d been stabbed in the back.

“So that’s why you brought him here,” he realized aloud. “You didn’t take him back home because you never had any intention of doing so.”

“Bruce, look, I just think it’s for the best,” Dick sighed heavily, as if he had been the only one stressing out. “I didn’t say I was kidnapping him from you and Alfred but be real. Do you think he’s going to want to go back?”

He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, wounded pride and fiery rage filling him in an instant. “I will not fight with you, Dick. Not over this. He’s my ward, my responsibility. You don’t have a say in this.”

“Maybe if I had, he wouldn’t have run away!” The younger practically shouted.

When Jason stirred, he and his oldest cringed. They couldn’t have the conversation that apparently needed to happen so close to the boy. He needed rest and sleep and comfort. Jason didn’t need to hear him and Dick shouting at one another.

He took the opportunity to walk out of the bedroom. He walked to Dick’s living room, knowing he’d been followed. As soon as he turned around, he glared down at his original Robin. He trusted Dick. He did. The once tiny, precocious acrobat had grown up to be the kind of man that any parent or sibling or uncle could be proud of. But that didn’t give Dick the right to take Jason away from him.

“Alfred and I can manage Jason just fine without your interference, Dick,” he growled.

“Can you?” Dick demanded heatedly, one of his hands falling to his hip and the other waving emphatically. “Jason isn’t like me, Bruce. He isn’t going to just take a punishment. Let’s face it, Jason has been in charge of himself since the moment you picked him up. His parents are dead and his one shot at a biological family sold him to the damned Joker!”

Every fiber of Bruce’s being burned at the mention of Jason’s so-called mother. He was only grateful he hadn’t been able to find her or Joker. He didn’t know what he would have done. Hell, he still didn’t know what he’d do when he saw the clown again.

“No, Dick, you don’t get to put this all on me,” he argued. “Jason was doing very well under mine and Alfred’s care. He’s the one who started getting aggressive. I had no choice but to ground him!”

“And we see how well that went!” Dick spat, scowling angrily up at him. “The moment you have to go out of town again, whether for ‘Brucie’ or the JL, you know he’ll take off again! Even Alfred won’t be able to stop him!”

“So, what’s your plan then? What are you going to do for your job?” He demanded. “You tell me how you’re going to make it work where we can’t!”

“First of all, I’ve called my chief and informed him I’ll be applying for FMLA to take care of my brother!” Dick retorted.

“And patrolling?” He countered. “Are you going to trust Jason alone in Bludhaven while you patrol?”

“I’ll call some friends!”

“Yes, the very friends who have alienated him and resented him for taking your place at my side!” Bruce felt his face burning red with anger. “Even if you could convince me to let him stay, how are you going to train him, Dick? How are you going to handle his physical therapy, his depression, or his temper?” 

For the first time, Dick looked hesitant as he fell silent. Bruce was relieved. That meant the argument was nearly over. He just had to settle and calm both of them down enough to see reason. Then after a day or two with Dick, he’d come pick up Jason and get him settled back in the mansion.

“I’ve trained plenty of the current heroes running around the cities of this nation,” Dick said softly, quietly. “I’ve helped more people recover and kept them in better spirits than you’ll ever know and that’s why I’m far more suited to be helping Jason than you are. I wasn’t the one who he heard disparaging him, Bruce. What makes you think he’ll trust you?”

Controlling his temper, Bruce took a deep breath and stepped back. “This conversation is over, Dick. Tomorrow morning he’ll be moved back to the manor.”

He turned to head back into the room to check on Jason. “He doesn’t want to see you, Bruce,” Dick whispered. Bruce looked back. “I spoke to him. He doesn’t want to go home. He doesn’t want to be anywhere near you or even Alfred right now.”

His brow furrowed as his heart stuttered and his mouth dried up. He didn’t want to believe it was true, but the recollection of Jason’s fury when he told him he couldn’t be Robin anymore seared itself onto his heart and into his mind. The teen looked as if Bruce had sucker punched him and with a mental cringe, Bruce recalled Jason screaming that he hated him.

Swallowing the emotions threatening to break free, he made a decision. “Very well. We’ll leave him here for the time being. As long as he heals.”

Dick looked as if he wanted to say something, but he wouldn’t give him the opportunity. He walked out of the apartment and gently shut the door behind him. He’d give his boys whatever time they needed and silently vowed to be there when they changed their minds.

* * *

Dick covered his face with trembling hands as soon as Bruce walked out of his apartment. _If_ Dick was angry, he knew himself well enough to know that what he’d said was pretty tame. Half of the fights he and Bruce had that lasted longer than a day or two were as much his fault as Bruce’s. Especially since he had a tendency of hitting below the belt.

“Wow,” Slade’s deep timber pulled him from his guilty thoughts. “For a minute there, I thought you’d lost your nerve.”

“No,” Dick shook his head. “I knew what was at stake. I couldn’t let you come out and fight with him. He’s too hurt and too distracted to deal with you tonight.”

“After what you said, I’d be surprised if he ever has the nerve to face me,” Slade chuckled. “But I’m impressed that you followed through and that you kept your end of the bargain.”

“Go to Hell, Slade,” Dick grimaced and walked past the hulking assassin and went straight to his bedroom at the end of the hall. He shut it firmly and locked it. He knew it wouldn’t stop Slade if he really wanted to come in, but it made his wish to be left alone very clear.

He sat on the side of his bed, before flopping backward. He stared up at the ceiling, hating himself for what he said to Bruce. Completely unprovoked to! Just to keep a secret that couldn’t possibly be kept forever! There was no way Bruce would ever forgive him for what he’d said. Especially if he ever found out that Jason had cried for Bruce and demanded to see him.

Sure, Jason hadn’t quite been in his right mind, but it didn’t change anything…

Dick was an awful person.


	3. Changes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fair warning, I have not edited this. Today just kind of sucks and I wanted to get it out before I erased it all.

He heard a strange buzzing first. Smelled something burning, like plastic. His head was swimming, but his body felt… tight. Like he needed a good stretch. He felt stiff and as he started to move, he felt a heavy hand press down on his right shoulder.

“Don’t move kid,” A slightly familiar voice ordered. “You might heal quickly, but that doesn’t mean you won’t feel pain.”

Holding still, he blinked his eyes open until he realized he was looking at what had to be the most fucked up looking doctor he’d ever seen. The guy was massive, in both height and musculature! He was also missing an eye and he had mostly white hair. In a weird way, the “old” man was very attractive. Jason had always liked strong men and this dude was as buff as Bruce, if not more so.

And he was holding a small cast saw to the very item he’d smelled burning. “What happened?” He asked quietly, doing his best not to clench his fingers just because he was told not to. He was trained better than that, after all.

“Dick will be in shortly and then we’ll have a talk. But first, I need to get these damned casts off you,” The old man growled. “I told him this wouldn’t be necessary.”

“I had to sell the lie somehow, Slade, and if Jason hadn’t been casted or properly bandaged, _he_ would have known something was up,” Speaking of Dick, Jason looked up and saw him leaning against the door frame of the room he was in.

Wait, did he say Slade? As in Deathstroke? As in one of Dick’s greatest enemies? Jason stared up at the man with far more curiosity than he’d had the first time. This was one of the people that Batman and Nightwing had warned him to keep his distance from. He was never allowed to engage Deathstroke without Nightwing or Batman at his side, and even then, it was made clear that he should stay back.

Warm air finally hit his left arm as the saw powered down. Jason immediately pulled it back and looked it over carefully. He was having a hard time remembering what happened. Stretching and fisting his hand intermittently until he was sure it was working properly; he stole a glance at Dick and Slade.

Slade was moving to his other arm, ready to do the same work. He thought for certain Dick would come over and talk, but apparently when Slade said after, he meant it. Knowing men like him, or at least assuming Slade was anything like Bruce, Jason figured it meant he’d done something bad again. Something fucked up that would result in him losing his cape.

_“I fucking hate you!” _The scream bounced around in his mind. He’d thrown those cruel words at Bruce! But why? He tried to remember and after a moment it came back. _“This has to stop Jason, and if the only way to prevent you from becoming a murderer is to take Robin from you than so be it!” _

A singular blue eye caught his attention and Jason realized the saw was off again. The one-eyed man was staring at him intently, as if he’d been reading his mind. That, however, was an ability he knew Deathstroke was not capable of. Unfortunately, he also knew that the man was an expert at reading people. So, did it really matter if it was a superpower or a practiced skill?

“Hey, look at me, Robin,” Slade ordered, and only once Jason held his gaze, did the man continue speaking to him. “This isn’t going to be easy. No part of this is. You were nearly killed. Whether your body survived or not, your mind was severely traumatized. That means training and conditioning.”

He rolled his eyes. “Tell me something I don’t know,” he smarted off, expecting the big man to snap back or maybe even hit him. Instead, to Jason’s surprise, Slade smirked and went back to work, stopping only when his right arm was as free as the left. “Thanks.”

“For?” Slade asked.

“Taking the casts off?” Jason guessed, but had a feeling he was being tested.

“You don’t remember everything?” Dick frowned from the doorway, his expression pinched and touched with panic.

“Grayson, if you can’t stay calm, get out,” Slade ordered calmly.

His older… whatever, remembered himself. Dick straightened and nodded before forcing his expression to change to something that was at least neutral. The problem was, Dick was never neutral. He was always one extreme or the other. Filled with self-righteous anger that he spilled all over his damned friends and family, or he was radiating warmth and love like a nuke next to anyone close enough to be blinded.

“You’re afraid to think about it, aren’t you Jason? To see what you really owe your brother and I?” Slade spoke gently. “How about deduction? You know it wasn’t me or Dick that put you in this position,” Jason nodded. “It wasn’t Bruce, no matter how mad he was at you, he’d never hurt you. Not like this.”

“Not like anything,” he corrected with a sneer and felt an odd tugging on the left side of his face. He was started by the feeling and lifted a hand to his face, only for it to be caught by Slade in a firm, but gentle hold. “What… What are you trying to hide from me?”

“There is nothing I’m hiding from you, Jason,” He said his name again and Jason tried not to think. Tried not to let his training with Bruce cast the action in a dark light. He couldn’t help it. He’d been training with Bruce for three, nearly four years straight.

Slade Wilson was saying his name. Not often enough to be too obvious, but often enough to calm and familiarize them both to one another. He wasn’t saying it with anything close to contempt, but rather in gentle tones to keep him settled. The older man was manipulating his name, repeating his name when appropriate to create a bond between them yes, but also to distract him.

He said he wasn’t hiding anything but then, why not just be up front? Why couldn’t they tell him what he wanted to know?

“Jason, I want you to take this slowly,” Slade reasoned, still holding his hand even though it had fallen limp several seconds ago. “What are you thanking me for?”

His eyes cut to Dick, but before he could get a read on the man, Slade grabbed his chin. He had no choice but to look into that one cold blue eye and the thick black eye patch. He felt something. No. He heard something and instinctively he brought his shoulders up. He didn’t want to hear it. He knew he didn’t want to hear the laughing.

“Easy, Kid,” The big assassin murmured as he kept hold his chin but released his arm so that he could use that hand to run through his hair once or twice. “Don’t hyperventilate. Just breathe when I do, alright?”

He did as he was told and even though Jason started to remember the awful beating, the terrifying laughter, and the way his… the way Sheila watched coldly from the other side of the room; he didn’t panic. Not with Slade continuing to run his fingers through Jason’s hair or the way he kept his chin firmly in his grasp.

“Why?”

“What are you asking about, Kid?”

“Why was it you that saved me?” Jason asked.

“Dick,” Slade called but didn’t take his eyes off Jason, which he appreciated. He was sure he’d lose it if they broke eye contact. “You may answer why you asked me to come get Jason and nothing more.”

He wanted to look to his brother, but Slade squeezed his chin a touch. The man was reading him, watching for something, but Jason didn’t know what. So he stayed quiet and kept staring at him as he was silently instructed. He didn’t like the feeling that he was being so thoroughly searched by the mercenary, but it was better than getting his ass kicked, he supposed.

“Such an asshole,” Dick mumbled before his voice found it’s strength. “Jason, you chose to meet with Sheila because Bruce was scheduled to be out of town. Out of state. I was here in Bludhaven and Slade is the only one I trusted to find you and keep you safe.”

“Why not Wally or something?” Jason asked as he managed to tear his gaze away from Slade.

Dick closed his eyes and shook his head. “I didn’t think he’d be equipped to help you beyond finding you. I knew Slade would be armed to the teeth and have everything he needed to keep you alive if it was as bad as I feared.”

Jason looked at his arms, free of their casts, and felt his stomach roll. He’d been dying. Might have died once or twice for all he knew. He recalled the helicopter briefly. Faceless men stabilizing injuries and doing what they could, all while shaking their heads. They were trying to clean him up, but they weren’t urgent. They weren’t convinced he could survive but did what they were paid to.

“What is this going to cost us, Deathstroke?” Jason asked seriously, hoping like Hell it would distract him from the other sound that was still trying to pull him away.

“Your brother has already paid the price of retrieving you and keeping you alive,” Slade answered. “But your portion… I’m afraid can’t be negotiated.”

He gritted his teeth. “What do I owe you then?”

“I gave you the same serum that has helped to make me who I am, Jason.” He answered. “You can’t be left alone until I know you’re properly trained to handle it. Your strength, your speed, your body’s healing… It’s gonna take its toll on you and it’s never been administered to someone was still caught in puberty. There may be side effects that Wayne and Grayson can’t possibly handle.”

“Healing…” He cringed as he recalled the crowbar. Loud, sadistic laughter came crashing down on him as he reached for his head. With every laugh, Jason remembered and _felt_ the blows from the unforgiving metal weapon.

“Jason!” Dick started forward, but Slade got off his bed and stopped his brother from reaching him. “He’s upset!”

“He can’t avoid it completely. He has to come to terms with this,” Slade snarled and the gentle, kind persona he’d been presenting disappeared beneath the angry, control freak.

But Jason’s hands were free. He touched his face, right where the pulling and tension had been. There was scar tissue. Heavy and thick. What the fuck? He wanted to see, needed to see it for himself. Jason got to his feet. He didn’t feel pain anywhere. Not in a single place he should have, and he _had_ to get to a mirror to inspect his body and see what Joker and Deathstroke had done to him.

He saw Slade struggling to keep Dick from reaching him and took the opportunity to leap beneath their legs and roll into the hallway. He got up and ran to Dick’s bathroom. He was nearly to the mirror when he felt strong arms wrap tightly around him. Slade held him against his chest and Jason tried to get loose, but the man wasn’t letting up an inch.

“Listen to me, Jason,” Slade ordered. “Just hold still a moment and listen to me.”

“Fuck you! Let me go! Let me see!”

“Jason, please,” Slade softened his tone once more and Jason couldn’t help but relax a touch. The man’s face was set beside his as the powerful mercenary kept him pinned to his chest. “I’m not going to stop you from looking, but you have to be prepared. Do you understand?”

He froze as he realized what he was being told. He didn’t look like himself anymore. Or rather, he looked like a fucked-up version of himself.

“It’s not as bad as I’m sure you’re thinking,” Slade warned. “But it’s going to be an adjustment, Kid. You understand? It might even shock you at first, but you just breathe through it. Breathe and know that Dick and I are right here, Jason.”

When he was released, Jason wasn’t as keen to see himself anymore. He almost wished that Slade would have prevented him from getting to the bathroom. Now, he either had to walk into the room and look in the mirror or admit defeat and return to his room. He took a deep breath and stepped into the small tiled space and flipped the light on. He kept his eyes down, looked into the sink instead of his reflection.

Finally, when he felt the presence of both Dick and Slade at the doorway, he looked up into the glass.

He winced at the sight that greeted him. It was a good thing he wasn’t a vain guy. He looked worse than fucking two face. He brought his fingertips up to gently touch at the wicked scar that ran from the left corner of his lip. It ran up to the bottom of his ear and forked off toward his left eye. It was jagged and thick, like half of a Glasgow smile.

Joker… He’d be so proud of his handy work. Of the way he’d managed to scar him. Both physically and… He glared at the reflection as cruel laughter filled his ears. And as he stared into the mirror he was sure he saw the clown’s smiling face.

His fist crashed into the glass, and even the loud shattering crack didn’t silence the clown.

“Jason!” Dick moved to get to him and to both their surprise, Slade didn’t stop him.

Dick’s eyes lingered on the glass all over his bathroom counter and sink before they fell to Jason’s hand. He grabbed Jason’s bleeding limb and they both looked at the crimson trails that ran from a few cuts across his knuckles.

He was about to pull away from his brother, when he felt an itching as his skin pulled itself back together. Right before their eyes! Jason stepped away from Dick and brought his hand up closer, his heart fluttering at the sight.

“Make sure there aren’t any pieces of glass in the cuts,” Slade ordered. “Otherwise, you’ll just have to cut him open to get them out or wait for them to work their way out.”

* * *

Jason sat on the couch in Dick’s messy living room while his brother and Slade argued about who was going to leave the apartment. Slade insisted that Dick couldn’t take care of Jason properly should he wig out and Dick didn’t trust Slade not to just grab him and disappear. He sighed, his left hand still running obsessively over the scars on his face.

There was so much he should be processing and working through, but he couldn’t concentrate. Where was Bruce? Why hadn’t he shown up yet? He was so sure that no matter how bad things got between them that the billionaire was too stubborn to give up on him. Had what he said been so unforgivable? Also, hadn’t Slade mentioned that Bruce sent him?

“I want to talk to Bruce,” he announced, ending the argument immediately. They both stared at him, Dick looking guilty and fearful, while Slade appeared calm and prepared for the request. “Where is he? Why hasn’t he shown up to check on me?”

“He did,” Slade answered. “He wanted to take you back to the manor with him, but Dick and I set up things so that you can’t leave yet.”

He blinked. He didn’t know if he was more surprised that Slade had been honest or that Dick had helped to keep Bruce from him. He gritted his teeth and glared at both of them. “Set it up?”

“Jason, you have to be properly trained and there is no way Bruce Wayne is going to let me anywhere near his pretty birds, especially given my history with the former Teen Titans.” Slade answered.

He glared but was thrown off by the scarring again. He reached up irritably and touched his face. “You can’t stop me from being Robin, you can’t make me listen to you, and you can’t keep me from Bruce.”

As usual Slade remained stoic and calm, considering Jason was challenging him on nearly every front. Dick was the only one giving anything away and his expression… Jason felt his stomach drop at the sight. His so called brother was on the verge of tears with a horrified and shocked expression. His mouth was open and his eyes were wide.

“Oh God,” he whispered.

“What?” Jason asked. “You just realizing you basically handed me over to Slade on a silver platter or is there something even more fucked up you don’t want to tell me.”

Slade sat in a chair beside the couch he was on and looked him over carefully, before speaking. “Think about it, Jason,” He suggested gently.

Dick grabbed his keys off his messy counter and with a backward glance shook his head. “I… I guess I’ll go get the supplies. Let me know if you need anything beyond what we discussed.” And just like that, Jason was left alone with one of the scariest men alive.

Before he could say much of anything, Slade was on his feet and off the couch. As if he’d only been sitting there to upset Dick. Actually, it seemed like a lot of what Slade did or said was meant to upset him. He wondered why they were even working together if they hated each other so damned much. Then again, Jason tended to enjoy being around people he was entertained by teasing, too.

“Jason, you and I are going to have a very long road ahead of us. It’s not going to be a couple weeks of training and adjusting, the end.” The man warned. “It’s going to be intensive, painful, and draining both mentally and physically.”

He tilted his head. “Why?”

“For the same reason you can’t be Robin anymore,” Slade sighed.

Nearly choking, Jason shot to his feet. “What? Why? Did Bruce say that?”

“No,” Slade shook his head. “Not yet, but he will. He won’t have a choice, Jason. Never again can you be Robin.”

“Fuck you! Bruce wouldn’t abandon me! I’m… I’m just grounded! That’s all,” he had to make Slade see that he was wrong. Just because he and Bruce fought didn’t mean he was lost. It didn’t mean he disowned. They just had to rebuild some trust again.

His heart raced and his eyes burned in anger and despair. Why were they taking it all away from him? Surely one scumbag meeting an untimely death wasn’t enough to destroy everything? Bruce believed in discipline of course, but he was also a firm believer in forgiveness and second chances. Hadn’t he earned that?

“Hey, hey,” Slade hushed him as he approached and knelt in front of him. “Jason, you’re not being punished. Not by anyone,” he assured him as he ran his hands through his hair again. “Look at me, Jason.” Slade didn’t speak until he finally looked at him. “Tell me you understand me when I tell you that no one is punishing you. I’m not, and neither are Bruce or Dick, alright?”

He couldn’t help but be skeptical as he nodded. “OK, but then why can’t I be Robin anymore?”

Slade ran the back of his knuckles across Jason’s scarred cheek. “You tell me why, Pretty Bird. Why can’t you be Robin anymore?”

He swallowed hard and knew Slade had given him a clue. It had been in the way he touched the side of his face. When the tears came, he didn’t bother to fight them. He couldn’t be Robin anymore because he’d be recognizable. If he wanted to keep fighting crime, everything about his movements, his fighting, and methods… everything had to change. Especially his uniform!

“I can’t let any part of my face show and I can’t be recognized as a former Robin,” he answered solemnly.

“That’s right,” Slade nodded with a downward turn of his lips. “I know how much that image means to you. I know what fighting back against the world’s darkness means to you, will always mean to you. That’s why I have to train you, Jason. It’s why Bruce can’t anymore. Why Nightwing can’t.”

Jason hated himself for being so weak and so hurt. He hated himself for chasing Sheila. He hated that he’d thrown away his entire life because of his temper. He had it so good! He’d been loved and taken care of with Bruce and Alfred. Even Dick had started to come around. Barbara hadn’t meant what she told Bruce. Not the way it came out. And yet, he’d reacted. Reacted like an angry, undisciplined, hateful teenager.

He wanted Bruce, he wanted Alfred. He didn’t hate Dick and he was grateful for Slade’s rescuing him, but he wanted to see the men who were supposed to be raising him. He wanted to know that they still loved him, would always love him, even if he couldn’t be Batman’s Robin. Even if his colors changed, or his mask, or especially his face…

“You won’t take me from them, not permanently?” Jason asked.

“Not permanently, no,” Slade agreed.

“But you are going to take me away. From all of them. Bruce, Alfred, _and_ Dick?”

The older man nodded.

“When?” Jason asked.

“In about fifteen minutes.”


End file.
